


Witness Marks

by OasisMirror



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Drug Use, M/M, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-07 12:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16408589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OasisMirror/pseuds/OasisMirror
Summary: witness-markNoun(plural witness marks)A scratch or similar mark on each half of an assembly used to position or locate partsCharles and Erik lose and find one another over the years.Updated weekly until complete





	1. Chapter One

It hurt.

That was the worst part. The pain.

That his legs were dead did nothing to dull the slow creep of agony up his spine, his back muscles straining against the healing wound the bullet had left. The narcotics the doctors had prescribed for him lined his bedside table. The bed where he spent most of his time, heartsick and empty.

He wasn’t the man he’d been, and the days went by in a blur. He barely remembered one day from the next. 

The children stayed.

Charles wasn’t sure why. He was afraid to ask, and the medicine dulled his powers to a whimper. Depression crushed in on him and soon left him numb and uninterested in much of anything. He couldn’t concentrate on reading, or tv, or writing.

But worst of all was that creeping, lingering pain.

He woke this night from his usual set of nightmares, with a gasp and a flail, the images of Raven and Erik’s faces still fresh in the early morning dark. His errant arm knocked bottles from the bedside table with a loud crash. He bit back a sob, then he failed at biting it back, and cried into his arm. When his heart was empty again, he noticed the pain throbbing all the way to his shoulders. He reached out a lazy hand to the medicine on the dresser, and realized that of course he’d knocked it on the floor. A shaking sigh cut through the crackle of tears in his throat as he worked up his courage to move. Reach all the way down to the floor and come back up.

It took effort, and a good fifteen minutes, but he made it on to his side, then his stomach, his useless legs dead weight under the blankets. He twisted and groaned, his back protesting the movement after so long abed. He rallied, gave a scream, and grabbed the small bottle off the floor. He collapsed back into bed, his hands shaking with the effort. He removed a pill and capped the bottle.

“How long have you been like this?” a smooth, low voice from the doorway. One he knew better than his own. Better than anyone’s.

He was not a man used to being surprised and the bottle spun through the air as he jumped.

“Why are you here, Erik?”

His traitorous heart gave a thump in his chest. That thump was caused by a feeling he wished desperately to numb out with pain medicine, and maybe some of the brandy he’d been saving for special occasions that may now never come. He couldn’t bring himself to care, and couldn’t be alarmed that he didn’t care.

Erik moved into the swath of moonlight bisecting Charles’ room; the room they’d once shared. There was concern in his eyes, which rankled Charles for reasons he could define, but again, didn’t care to. 

“I’m not here,” the tall figure responded. He was wearing the clothes Charles remembered him sleeping in. Soft black sweatpants and a white t-shirt. The familiar silhouette of his lover in the moonlight made him ache.

“You’re not?”

“No.” Erik looked around. “I’m pretty sure I’m sleeping.” His gaze locked on Charles who took a deep breath and poured himself a finger of brandy, then used it to wash down his pain medication.

Charles looked horrible.

Erik’s insides clenched. The once vibrant man looked small and washed out. A line of pain ran between his eyebrows, a line of pain that Erik knew he was the cause of. 

“Yes, well, I’m sorry about that. It’s harder to control when I’m…”

“Drunk? High? Wallowing in self-pity?” Erik offered, taking a step toward the bed with each word.

Charles waved the glass before himself in a vague motion. “Pick one.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Which?”

“How long have you been like this?” Erik repeated.

“I don’t know. How long has it been since you left?”

There was no gentle answer to the question, even if Erik was any good at being gentle, which he wasn’t. He didn’t answer.

“I really have nothing to say to you, Erik.” But he was caving under the weight of Erik's gaze, which didn’t waver.

“You brought me here,” Erik pointed out mildly. The carpet was soft under his feet. It couldn’t be real, but it seemed so solid, and Charles had never looked like this in his dreams before. He’d have to start wearing the blasted helmet to bed.

“So I did,” he ran a hand over his eyes, relaxing further back into his bed. Their emotions were trickling into each other’s, blending uncomfortably. “I’m big on self-torment these days. I’ll send you back as soon as I’m able.”

A moment of silence between them, before Erik moved quietly toward the bed and sat at Charles’ hip. 

“It was an accident, the bullet,” Erik whispered, eyes looking at his own bare feet. If this was a dream, at least he could say his apology here.

“I know,” Charles croaked, and reached out to touch the other man’s hand. There was no hesitation as Erik took it in his own. 

Charles wished he had it in him to hate this violent, angry man.

Erik wasn’t violent or angry right now, he was just sad. It was obvious he didn’t regret the decision he’d made, but Charles could feel the overwhelmed storm of his guilt. Of all the people in the world that Erik could have brought agony to with his mere presence, he clearly wished it could have been anyone but Charles.

The silence dragged on between them, hands warm in one another’s. The connection was still there, and strong, pulling at Charles’ heart painfully. They were meant for one another, but they would never compromise in their methods. It was maddeningly unfair. And Erik had paralyzed him with that deflected bullet. He hadn’t meant to, of course not, he didn’t KNOW. Charles kept the wheelchair in the closet. He called for Hank if he needed help, and the empty chair mocked his hubris with its very presence.

“I’m going to send you back now,” he informed the other man. “I’ll try to erase this visit. You probably don’t want to remember this. I know I don’t.”

“Charles…”

“I love you, Erik. I’ll see you soon, I’m sure,” he pulled away, and tried to take the memory of the visit with him. Uncertain if it had worked or not, he fell into a deep sleep.


	2. Chapter Two

Time spun on, his wounds healed. For two years Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters thrived.

His heart began to heal with every child who found their home in the walls of his school. They took comfort in his presence, and he in theirs. 

Life settled into a normal routine. He had the others to mind, broken children, scared and angry adults. One of the girls who came to him was named Lily Song. She was 5, and had yet to speak a word to anyone. She would take his hand, or ride in his lap, her trust in people growing by every kindness given to her. Her power was simple, for now. She could float. It wasn’t possible to say how those powers might change and grow as the small mutant matured, but he planned to be there for her as it happened. Promised her he’d stay by her side. She seemed to take comfort in that, and Charles felt like he was making a difference again.

The other wonderful thing about running this school was that by the end of each day he was utterly worn out. His sleep was generally dreamless and deep. But always before bed, a last cup of tea, usually alone, sometimes with a teacher or an older student, or with a dozing Lily on his lap.

This evening had been a hard one. A story book about a clown had sent poor, small Lily into hysterics and he’d been called by her distress before someone could fetch him. He lifted her from the floor and she floated into his lap. Charles held her to his chest and left the room with her. He’d spent an hour in the study whispering to her, calming her mind until finally, finally she’d fallen asleep. As soon as he finished his tea, he would send telepathically for Hank to take her up to bed, but for now the steady rise and fall of her chest, and the back of her head tucked into the crook of his arm felt like a victory.

It made making tea a little more difficult than he’d have liked, especially with the wheelchair, but he was unwilling to risk waking the girl by setting her down. He looked down at her soft, brown face and smiled sadly, pausing in his tea making ritual to brush a tight black curl from her sweaty forehead.

“I can hear you breathing, you might as well come in,” he said kindly, his voice low. He couldn’t sense the presence just outside the kitchen doorway, but he wasn’t focused on it either, his attention still on Lily.

"Charles."

The familiar voice caught him by surprise and he turned, eyes widening as Erik strode into the kitchen.

"Erik. You weren't supposed to find out this way."

Erik took another two steps, looking stricken, then reached out to touch the wheelchair’s back, gently. “I...I did this.”

“You did, yes. But it was an accident.” Charles schooled his face as close to neutral as he could manage.

“When were you going to tell me?” Erik kept his voice down, mindful of the sleeping child, but fury burned deep in his eyes. He touched the helmet keeping the telepath out of his mind, as if it were a security blanket. Charles watched it happen and his heart broke a little further.

“You don’t need that thing, you know. I’m not going to control you, or read your mind. I think we’ve both had quite enough of that for one lifetime, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’ll leave it on,” Erik said, moving a little to look at the girl lying in Charles’ lap. “Who is she?”

“Hmm? Oh, this is Lily. She floats.” He eased her away from his lap and she rose in front of them, weightless and drifting. He gently gathered her back up in his arms. “She had a rather hard day today and needed a little extra comfort.” He ran his thumb along her warm cheek, his eyes sad and soft. “She doesn’t speak, but she’s been through quite a lot. I hope to give her a stable home here with me so one day she can find her voice.”

“Sentimental as always,” Erik said, but there was no sting to it.

“I’d rather call it a kindness.”

“A kindness until she grows older and realizes that life is short on stable homes and good men.”

Charles sighed and licked his lips, looking up at his friend. “Did you come here to argue with me about my ethics?”

Erik was about to respond but a sound in the hallway made them both look up. 

“You might want to hide. That’s Hank, come to take Lily. Then we can talk, you and I. Outside.”

Erik nodded and eased himself behind the open kitchen door.

Hank strolled in moments after.

“How is she, Professor?”

“Wrung herself right out, I’m afraid. Will you take her to bed for me please?”

“Yeah, no problem.” Hank reached down and scooped the girl up easily, a careful and smooth motion. He paused before he turned to go with her. “Are you alright?”

Charles smiled at the man. A wonderful bright boy who had grown up into one of his most constant companions. He was very fond of him in general, but particularly in this moment. Hank’s sensitivity to his moods had saved him many times, and though not a part of his gifts, Charles considered Hank’s interpersonal instincts to be superb.

“I’m just fine. I think I’ll be taking some air after my tea. If you or anyone else needs me just shout.” He tapped the side of his head with his finger.

Hank nodded, left, and Charles and Erik were alone.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smitten, ineffectual idiots have a talk in the garden.  
> Thanks to dreamlittleyo for encouragement and beta-ing :)

“Now we can talk at a normal volume, and you can rage at me for whatever is lingering there behind your eyes.” He left his tea cooling on the kitchen table and followed Erik out into the side yard where they were least likely to be observed. The sounds of sleeping and settling children trickled softly at the back of his mind.

“You should have told me.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, Erik, you left me bleeding on the beach in the arms of a woman you didn’t like. I wasn’t sure it would matter to you, and the possibility that it might not seemed worse than telling you. And then years had passed and...you have enough pain and guilt without bearing mine too.”

“You’re an insufferable martyr, Charles.”

“And you’re a certifiable prick who abandoned me, took my sister away and hasn’t visited until now.” He stopped his wheelchair and rubbed at his forehead. “Are we quite done name-calling? I can’t use my legs, no. You are to blame for that, yes. I’ve forgiven you. Can we move past this?”

Erik crossed his arms and looked out at the moonlit grounds of the school. “I don’t know,” he answered softly. “Can we?”

Something sank in the professor’s chest. That wasn’t a typical response and Erik’s body language was wrong. “What did you come here to tell me, Erik? It wasn’t to argue about the life we once had. It’s something far more serious.”

Erik passed him a look and Charles rolled his eyes. “I don’t need my powers to tell that you’re upset about something. Out with it.”

“There’s a scientist named Trask. He’s collecting information on mutants. I don’t know what for. But he owns and runs an independent lab, so it can’t be innocent.”

Charles was about to refute the idea - Erik was always the pessimist - but something in the man’s face made him stop. “You’re truly worried about this?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I’ll invite him here, then, shall I? Talk to him face to face.”

“Not if you care about these children. If he finds out you’re here…”

“Nonsense, they’re in my care. And if he has any designs on this house, he’ll find he no longer remembers it. I appreciate your concern but I am not as soft nor as trusting as when you left me two years ago.”

“I missed you,” Erik said, and regretted it instantly. Teary blue eyes flashed up to his face then looked away.

“You knew how to get ahold of me,” came the soft reply.

“I don’t want you in my head…”

“The school is in the phone book. No, I didn’t reach out to tell you how I was. You left me. If you were going to come back, you had to do it of your own accord.”

Erik stooped, their faces inches apart, forcing Charles to look at him.

“I missed you, too,” Charles admitted softly, wiping at his eyes. “But if you’re going to kiss me, I insist you take the helmet off.”

“I don’t want you in my head,” Erik repeated.

“I won’t go in your head,” Charles promised. “Do you trust me?”

Erik refused to break eye contact, but let the telepath reach for the helmet. “Do you trust yourself?” His hands enveloped Charles’ and helped him pull off the helmet, then dove in for a kiss. It wasn’t tender, but that was fine. Neither of them had been expecting tender. Neither of them needed tender.

Hands wrapped in hair, and the frantic kissing continued until Erik was nearly in Charles’ lap. Their feelings began to overlap. Lust, fondness, relief, anger, passion...it was nearly the same as those years ago when they’d had a week of happiness together. Charles heard himself whimper and gave himself over to it. His chest felt full to bursting, a missing piece of himself returned. 

The kiss couldn’t last forever and when they broke for air, Charles put a hand on his chest and pushed him away gently. “Stop...Erik, stop…”

Another swift possessive kiss, Charles gave a more insistent shove backwards. 

“No. NO! Wait, just…” He rested the side of his head on his fist, careful not to touch his temple with his fingertips. He sighed, his eyes slipping closed. “I can’t...we can’t do this.”

“Why not? Do your morals not allow for us, now?”

It was a low blow and they both knew it. Charles’ bright eyes opened again and he sat up straight. “Wanting you physically is not a moral failing. Loving you might be, but not because of your gender, Erik. You’re going to leave me again, likely in the morning and I…” He gave a scoff of a laugh and wiped at his cheeks. “I’m fairly certain it would break my heart. Again.”

Charles reached the helmet out toward his friend. 

“I’m very sorry. I miss you desperately. I think of you every day, but...being without you is an open wound that’s only begun to heal and I can’t -”

“I understand,” Erik cut him off and took the helmet but didn’t put it on. It hung at his side by mere fingertips. “I’ve given you my warning. Raven sends her regards.”

“Don’t DO that.” Charles frowned.

“Do what?”

“THAT,” He gestured to the other man and rolled himself closer. “That thing you do when you close down as I’m trying to tell you how I feel.”

“Do you want me to leave or not?” Erik asked, his body language still relaxed, his mind a cool stone against the weight of Charles’ building temper.

“Oh for heaven’s sake. I never wanted you to leave. That’s exactly what I mean. That’s exactly what I was just talking about.”

“You said you loved me.” Erik turned to face the house so he stood in profile, the light from the kitchen window shining on his face. “Two years ago, when we spoke last, you said those words.”

Charles felt himself pull up short. Every particle of himself froze, his anger gone in an instant. “I did, yes,” he admitted before he could stop himself. “I didn’t mean for you to remember that. I warned you the memory alteration might not work. I’m sorry.”

Erik’s sharp face turned toward him again. “You said you loved me two minutes ago.”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Yes. I know what I said.”

A pause. Erik was quiet until Charles looked up at him. “And you know how I feel about you.”

Another sad smile. “It would be rather hard to miss, even if I were not a telepath.”

“Do you want to hear me say it?”

“Oh, Erik, what would that change?”

A helpless twitch of Erik’s right hand, almost a shrug, but not willing to commit to it. “Nothing.”

“I suspect that’s so.”

“I do love you, Charles.”

“I know. That’s the real tragedy, isn’t it? When our minds touch I can feel a connection. Our lives are linked, our souls intertwined... forever, as far as I can tell. I’ve never felt anything like I do when you’re near me. If the world was different, perhaps…”

Erik stepped forward. “Show me.”

Charles blinked in confusion. “Show you what?”

“If the world was different, what we could have.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I don’t dare. I don’t want think about it, and you’d only laugh at me.”

“I doubt it.”

“I thought you didn’t want me inside your head anymore.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to leave. Stop diverting and show me.” Erik leaned his head down closer and took Charles’ hand, bringing it to his temple.

As much as it hurt to touch Erik’s mind, knowing it would soon be far from his again, Charles found it very hard to resist the temptation. Soulmates were a rubbish concept, as far as he was concerned, but he had no idea what else to call this bone-deep connection the two of them shared. Anyway, he was, at his core, a romantic and slipping into Erik’s mind was as easy as breathing.

His ideal life spun around them in snippets. The two men sharing their lives. Life simply spinning on around them, normal and quiet. Holding hands. Lots of sex. Chess. Children. Laughter. Arguments. Running the school. Birthdays. Anniversaries. 

Charles left Erik’s mind and found the face under his hands was wet.

“You want this with me?”

“I know you think yourself a monster, but you’re a person. You deserve this life,” Charles replied, wiping the tears with his thumbs.

“How can I when our brothers and sisters suffer out in the world?”

“And you call me a martyr. We cannot save them all, Erik.” He leaned up and pressed a sweet kiss to the other’s lips.

“I can’t believe that.”

“I know. And that’s why you’ll never stay.” His hands slipped from Erik’s face.

Silence.

“You had better go,” Charles said, and turned back to go inside, his breath catching in his chest. If he had glanced back he would have seen Erik watching him leave. He would have caught too, the slight pull of a smile at a corner of Erik's mouth.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Goodbye as daily life begins to crumble.

His world came to an end, and it didn’t crash, or shatter, it broke slowly, a bone splintering under too much pressure. The war began, then it got worse, then the draft started and one by one his teachers were taken, then students. He could do nothing but let them go, at the mercy of the government who cared nothing for them.

The report of the first death hit him hard.

After that it was so easy to slide into apathy. 

Soon the only people left in the school were Lily, Hank and himself. But tomorrow Lily was leaving too; going to live with a very nice mutant family in Charlottesville.

He woke in the night to find her curled in her elephant blanket and floating two inches above the bed. He pulled her down to him and her to his chest.

“I don’t want to go,” she whispered. She had begun to speak late last year, but it was still rare. She often simply sent him emotions in chunks, and he understood. Some children had a hard time talking, he was glad to be there for her. “Don’t you want me anymore.”

He smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead. “The school is closing, darling. My wanting you to stay isn’t in question. Of course I want you.”

But how did you explain to a six-year-old that your life was falling apart? That you were embarrassed how easy it was to let it all just slide away? That you loved all of them too much to make them bear witness to your collapse?

Instead of trying, he sent her all the love he had for her across their mind-link. She echoed it back to him in a way they’d found to be familiar and comforting.

“I love you, my dear Lily and I’m ever so proud of you. I’m always just a mental shout away. Just like we practiced.”

“I want to stay here.”

“I know. But you can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Why not?”

“Because….because I can’t even take care of myself and you need people who can help you.”

“Ok.”

“Okay?”

She nodded. “Yes, Dad.”

He knew that she was half-asleep. That she probably didn’t even know she’d said it, but the title made him stifle a gasp of pain. It wasn’t fair. He wanted to keep her. But he was a teacher, not a parent. “Sleep,” he said softly, his tears sliding down his face and into his ears. She sent him back a ping of sadness.

He cupped the back of her head as she drifted off. He did not sleep again.

~*~

The couple who took her were a blur to him, but they were young, and kind and so GOOD. Charles could feel it. They loved his girl already and he didn’t doubt they’d take good care of her. They left him an address and a phone number and promised to bring her for visits. She hugged him tightly, and he was happy to find that she was already making a place in her heart for these parents. She was pleased they liked her, and pleased they liked him.

“Goodbye,” she whispered.

“Goodbye, Lily. Remember, I’m just a shout away,” he said as he waved the new little family to their car in the drive.

She sent a little ping of love out at him as the car left, and he returned it to her. Then she was gone.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik is in jail. Life continues to crumble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta reader is doing nano so isn't available. Please let me know if you see any glaring errors. <3

His life fell apart rapidly after that, but his powers did not allow him apathy for long. Without focus or the instinct for self preservation, his mind lost its filter and everything came in. All the time. Horrible things. Other people’s thoughts and memories. He would wake up screaming with Hank at his side. The scientist had taken to sedating him. That helped some. But sleep was hard to come by.

It was one night, in the library, while avoiding his bed, that his wandering mind brushed a familiar presence.

“Erik?”

“Charles.”

“I can’t see you. Where are you?”

“Prison.”

“Oh, Erik. Why?”

“They think I killed President Kennedy.”

“And did you?”

“No, of course not. He’s one of ours. I was trying to stop the bullet.”

The other mutant came into focus as Charles began to center himself on Erik. A plastic prison, white uniform, number on his chest. It seemed an unreasonable cruelty for a man who’d survived the horrors of Auschwitz to have been stuck in a prison without trial, given a number…. A chess set in the corner seemed to be the only concession. Erik looked the same, except his hair was longer and curled about his head in gentle ringlets, uncombed. It made Charles ache desperately.

“I wondered why you hadn’t visited,” he said mildly.

“Likewise. You look terrible, Charles. What happened?”

“Ah, yes, well, the school shut down because of the war. Sean died, Alex is still in Vietnam. Hank is still here, but the rest…” He shrugged. “It’s an empty house now. I failed.” He sat by the chess board and moved a pawn.

“You’ve given up?” Erik asked, moving to sit across from him. “That’s not like you.”

The telepath gave a small huff of a laugh. “No...no I suppose it isn’t. Still, the only thing we can rely on is change.”

“Hmm,” Erik replied, and moved a pawn. “What about the children without parents?”

“Adopted, all of them. To good people, I made certain of it.”

“Of course you did.”

“What does that mean?”

Erik shook his head, “It means exactly what I said. I’m not lying to you. What would be the point?” 

They played in silence for a moment, Erik’s thoughts straying into his own, as they always did when their minds were this close. It was mostly fondness, though there was a flavor of regret to it all. Thankfully, there was no pity.

“So what now that you’ve joined the rest of us in the real world?” Erik asked, but his voice was gentle and his mind calm. 

He thought briefly of telling the other man that Hank was working on a serum that would have the double effect of ridding him of his powers and letting him walk again. “Hmm,” he said instead and moved his bishop. “I don’t sleep much for one,” he answered, his eyes glancing back up at the whip-sharp mind he loved in front of him. “Beyond that? I’m really not sure yet.”

“You’ve never had trouble sleeping before. What’s changed?”

Charles tore his eyes from the game to look at Erik, his brow furrowing. “How do you know that?”

“You visit me when you sleep.”

Charles recoiled, mortified, then struggled to regain his composure. “I do?”

Erik smiled at him, moving his queen. “Often.”

“I’m sorry, my friend. I don’t remember…”

“I know. I don’t mind. You don’t usually say anything. You’re just close.”

“And you’re comfortable with that?”

“I’ve grown comfortable with it. Yes. It’s better than being alone. Stop diverting. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Charles sighed and tried to focus on their game. “I...I’m not certain, but since the school closed I’ve had a hard time filtering what goes in or out. It’s like I’m nine years old again. I suspect that problem is why I’m here.”

“Hmm,” Erik said again, nodding. “What are you going to do about it?”

The question visibly took him aback and he blinked rapidly. “W...what do you mean?”

“About the school closing, your lack of sleep, the voices. Pick one.”

“I hadn’t planned to do anything about it. I take it you have suggestions?”

“Besides drinking heavily? Which I can tell you’re doing. You feel different, in here,” Erik pointed to his own temple. Charles didn’t reply. “Yes, I have suggestions.”

“Well, let’s hear them then. You needn’t be shy, you never are.”

“Come get me out of here, let me help you.”

“I can’t do that. You know that.”

Erik rose slowly and walked to Charles’ side. “Do I? You showed me a life with you, not too long ago. We could have that life. I could try. Shaw is dead, and prison so tedious.”

“I don’t know if I can, Erik,” the other replied, not watching him approach, studying the board. “You still killed another person, another mutant, even if I didn’t believe you killed JFK.”

“Shaw was a monster.”

Charles slammed his hand down on the table, but the pieces didn’t move. The sound had its intended effect as Erik froze in his advance.

“I was in his mind, Erik. I was in his mind when you drove that coin through his brain. I felt every inch. You knew I was holding him still. There’s no price you won’t pay for your revenge, for your genocide you’re engineering. I won’t be a part of it. I can’t be.”

“Charles.”

“No.” He stood. “No, I’m going.”

“You said I wasn’t a monster.”

“You’re not,” Charles answered, turning his back to the other. “You’re not a monster, you’re just a man, a man that I love, and that’s worse, somehow.”

“Maybe with you, I could change.”

Charles sighed. “I can’t save you, Erik. I can’t even save myself.”

And he was gone.


End file.
